Chapter Text
Performing is not new to Beca.
Here are a few things that are:
The sense of loss when she feels Chloe’s warmth leave her side is frightening; the rush she gets when she runs off the stage at the end of her performance is exhilarating; the applause still ringing in her ears even when she’s ushered backstage and thrust in front of people with notepads and cameras and recording devices.
Who is Beca Mitchell?
She doesn’t even fucking know at this point, but she’s excited because it feels like the first real blank slate she’s had in a while.
Obviously, she can’t say that, or rather, she doesn’t know how she can possibly articulate that to the handful of strangers who are suddenly interested in what her vocal warm-up regimen is. She can’t help but think of late afternoons spent in front of whiteboards with elaborate practice schedules and work-out requirements. A brief half-smile inches across her face before she can stop it because of course, Chloe would know exactly what to say and/or do in this situation. Beca can only half-smile and stuff her hands awkwardly in her pockets, thanking the Heavens when DJ Khaled himself runs interference and reminds the hawks that they promised to save questions for after his own performance. The smile he directs at Beca is surprisingly comforting and it immediately reminds her of Barney the Dinosaur or something ridiculous, then she remembers DJ Khaled and his beautiful classical piano repertoire and reminds herself that the man is probably a genius.
She breathes a little bit and accepts the water that Turtle-Theo tosses at her. She does not accept the awkward half-hug he tries to impose on her.
“Thanks,” Beca mumbles, pretending to focus on uncapping the bottle. “Hey, have you seen my friends?”
To his credit, if Theo’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. “Yeah, of course. I think they went back to their dressing room.”
When the spotlight first descended on her, she was terrified. By the time she had finished the first verse, she knew that this was absolutely everything she wanted to do for the foreseeable future.
As long as she has The Bellas - her goddamn family - by her side, she’s sure she can do anything.
Beca does a quick check in The Bellas’ dressing room. She doesn’t bother fighting the smile that slips onto her face; smiling is second-nature since she’s been with The Bellas. She’s smiling at how everybody mingles with the familiarity of a sisterhood that only comes once in a lifetime and she’s smiling because she is so damn grateful for these moments.
However, she knows that the person she’s looking for is not there because she sees no immediately striking hair or the sound of that excitable voice she’s come to know and appreciate over the years. She flashes an apologetic smile at Fat Amy, who catches sight of her poking her head around the door. She mouths ‘Chloe’ and doesn’t wait around for the inevitable Look™ that she knows she’ll receive from her friend. As she closes the door quietly, she hears a burst of laughter from the newly-exorcised Esther, formerly Lilly, and the ensuing giggles from Flo and Cynthia Rose.
She thinks she hears Chloe’s voice around the corner. She follows it and is about to call out when she turns the corner and sees Chloe making a beeline towards Chicago. Neither of them sees her, for reasons that become obvious in a split second, and it makes every cell in Beca’s body want to shrivel up and die because of course, they don’t see her; they see each other and they’re kissing like it’s the only thing they want to do.
Beca stifles all sound and fumbles physically and emotionally. She hates feeling this uncertain and unsure, but most of all, she hates that she feels like she’s too late for something she didn’t even know she had a time limit on.
The kiss progresses because Chloe never does anything halfway and Beca has half a mind to put an end to it because Chicago was never going to be good enough for Chloe anyway. Before she can really formulate a real plan, Theo finds her again probably to formally congratulate her on a job well-done.
“That’s nice,” Theo comments when he sees where her attention is focused. Beca can’t say she entirely agrees with his judgement. She files it away in her memory since she’s his boss and all, now. They both watch the Chloe-and-Chicago show for a few seconds before Theo shifts and looks like he’s about to try the same thing on Beca, so she musters enough strength to firmly say “no” and sidestep that impending disaster.
However, the disaster in front of her is still happening and she doesn’t know what to do, so she follows Theo when he walks away.
“I wonder when that happened,” Theo says conversationally.
“I don’t know,” Beca manages.
And she really doesn’t. She doesn’t know how she missed all of this. She doesn’t know how she missed Chloe’s pining over Chicago. She doesn’t know how she missed this seemingly inevitable twist in her gut. She doesn’t know a lot of things and it makes her panic. It reminds her that she is no different than she was 5 years ago, sitting in front of complete strangers and performing a song that she learned from the internet in about five minutes.
Chloe has always made her feel like she didn’t know, but it frightens her that she finally does know something and it feels like nothing will ever happen.
She thinks of how maybe - hushed conversations in tents, gentle hands making sure she knows the right choreography, the hugs that feel like home - but maybe was never a certainty and that was probably Beca's first mistake. It was hoping against hope and refusing to just give in. She had Jesse and he was safe. He was an unexpectedly serious relationship, but still safe. They had different dreams and they wanted happiness for each other, though perhaps just not with each other in the end. Jesse is happy with his girlfriend and their dog. Maybe it was a cat? Beca's not sure. Maybe eventually an entire zoo.
It's a blissful temporary lapse as Beca's mind slips momentarily. Then she recalls that she's still glaring - staring hard - at the spectacle that she thought she walked away from. When Chloe and Chicago separate, their gazes are imbued with tenderness and affection that makes Beca shudder, then cringe because she wants to just fall straight through the floor to hell.
So she runs away.
And promptly trips over a cable.
The flight home is painful. Beca can’t quite get into a comfortable position because of her ankle and because she opted for the window seat next to Fat Amy so she wouldn’t have to look at Chloe or talk to Chloe. She leans her head on the window pane and sighs, trying to remember all the things she told Theo she’d do before setting up concrete plans to move to Los Angeles.
“Hey,” she hears over her shoulder and stiffens. “Amy, do you mind if I…?” And because Fat Amy is a traitor, she acquiesces.
Chloe is concerned because Beca is quiet - more quiet than usual. She thought Beca would be excited by this point because there had been some quiet excitement behind Beca’s eyes when she revealed that she had been handpicked by DJ Khaled himself. She did somewhat witness Beca’s disastrous fall and she knows how Beca’s pride is likely more wounded than her ankle.
Since then, Beca has barely uttered a full two sentences to her, which wouldn’t be so bad since Beca barely uttered a full two sentences to anybody else on a good day, but Chloe knows Beca like she knows all the playlists on her phone. She can practically feel the tension radiating off Beca’s tiny body in tiny waves everytime they come within touching distance of each other. While they were packing up, Beca usually just muttered “sorry” and acted as if her personal space was affronted and infiltrated even though Chloe knows that Beca’s personal space limit is a lot less. It hurts because it feels more like Beca's avoiding her and she can't fathom why, though perhaps she doesn't really want to know.
She brought it up to Chicago when they said their goodbyes with exchanged numbers and a promise to keep in touch.
"Maybe she's just sad to be leaving Europe. The time really just flew by, didn't it?"
Chloe felt like she could agree with that assessment, but her train of thought halted momentarily when Chicago kissed her once more, leaving her breathless and just the right amount of tingles in her toes. She thought there probably was a song for this on her 'many kisses later' playlist, but Beca's sudden appearance startled her right back into reality.
"Ready to go, Chlo?" Beca asked, her lips quirking at her own rhyme.
"Yeah, Bec."
Beca's face fell as suddenly as she appeared. She pursed her lips and nodded once before she turned to limp back towards where the Bellas were waiting. Chloe couldn’t help the affection that rose in her chest, barely even feeling Chicago’s heavy arm draped over her shoulders. Fat Amy caught Chloe's eye and made a crude, confusing, likely-sexual hand gesture. Chloe was satisfied to see Aubrey smacking Amy's shoulder.
"Well, I'll see you on the flip side, huh?" Chicago said quietly.
"I'll call, don't worry." And she meant it. Chicago was the fling she needed before she started vet school and found herself up to her elbows in literal and figurative crap again. Chicago was also a good friend to her over the past few weeks - the reminder that there were so many people she had to meet and friends to make; the reminder that her future would be just as bright with or without all the shortcomings.
Shortcomings…
Now on the plane, Chloe gazes down at the top of Beca’s head. Amy has vacated her seat and is about to leave, but not before she stares pointedly at Chloe with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Chloe has no idea what that’s about and focuses on sitting next to Beca.
“Hey,” she says. “I, um, brought you some water and painkillers, Bec.”
“Thanks, Chloe,” Beca responds tiredly. She sighs and turns to receive the items.
“No Chlo, huh?”
It’s something Beca irrevocably loves about Chloe. Her bluntness and her open emotions. It also makes Beca want to crawl inside her metaphorical shell and just blast pop-punk music until she doesn’t have to deal with these feelings anymore.
She goes for some levity. “Okay, Chlo. Thanks, Chlo.”
Chloe half slaps her shoulder, half kind of runs her palm along the skin. Beca shudders and smiles weakly, drawing up her pesky cardigan. Chloe draws her hand back immediately. Beca coughs and focuses on sipping her water and making sure she doesn’t embarrass herself by literally choking on her pill.
“How are you feeling? How’s your ankle?”
Beca shrugs trying to pull off a nonchalance that she does not feel. “I feel like a walking disaster. Or - you know, not really walking. A limping disaster.”
“You always did have a knack for being clumsy, you know.”
Beca hums and settles her gaze somewhere on the sleeve of her useless cardigan that keeps sliding off her shoulders. She just wants to look out the window and be sullen in silence.
Recalling what Chicago had said earlier, Chloe carefully asks “So are you sad to be leaving Europe, then?” She fixes her gaze on the side of Beca’s head. She is going to force a conversation out of Beca for as long as she can.
Beca closes her eyes momentarily, but not before she catches a glimpse of the clear blue skies and the sparkling ocean that both seem to just work together without even trying. Chloe’s question is innocent enough, but Beca knows she’s probably been freaking out over her behaviour.
In all honesty, Beca is a little sad to be leaving Europe. It was the perfect bubble - the home away from home - and she knows it’ll be hard to recapture the same Bella magic like that ever again, now that they’ve all got real jobs and busy lives.
She turns back to Chloe and thinks about their perfect bubble. Staying up late and coming up with ridiculous and elaborate choreography after everyone went to bed. Making fun of various European accents because she’s the asshole and half-heartedly apologizing to Chloe because Chloe’s the sweetheart with a killer look of mock-disapproval. Screaming for each other when they’re in ice-cold water, having just survived a fucking hostage situation. Beca's life needs a Lifetime movie.
So she’s not really sad to be leaving Europe, but she’s sad because once they’ve landed back in America, the bubble is officially popped and she’s got nothing to show for it while Chloe has Chicago, It feels crazy because it doesn’t feel like it matters how grateful she is for the recording contract because the person she wants to share it with the most is - well, here - but something that Beca has put off for so long that distance is all she knows anymore.
“I’m devastated,” Beca whispers. She has to whisper because raw honesty continues to physically hurt her these days. “Italy, Spain, France - it was all so…” she searches for the right word, or at least, she pretends to because she doesn’t need to search, just like the water doesn’t need to search the sky. “It was beautiful,” she says, making eye contact for the first time in what feels like weeks.
Chloe swallows hard when Beca looks away again. “It was, wasn’t it?” She feels like crying, so she just pulls out her phone. “I think I have a playlist for that,” she says quietly. And she does. It’s called “tiny feelings” and it’s all the things she's never said. She leaves a headphone by Beca's hand and settles back into her seat.
Beca is returning from grocery shopping when she overhears Chloe and Amy talking just behind their door. Their Brooklyn-apartment walls really weren’t built to sustain two of the most exuberant and lively people she knows.
“- school did you get into? You never really told us. Unless you did through a toast, which, I think you need to work on.”
Chloe’s laugh is soft and muted. Beca leans heavily against the wall. Just to catch her breath on the stairs. She hates those damn stairs.
“I found out I got into a couple actually. There’s one - Cornell - in upstate New York, the first one that responded to me. And of course, the one I'm really thinking about - UC Davis.”
Amy makes a shrill whistling noise. “Coming from the girl who failed Russian Lit three times?” That makes Beca smile.
“Amy, do you actually know what my major was? Anyway, you're all going to have to visit me regardless. Chicago said that he’d love to visit, no matter which school I pick.”
“I’m sure he’s not looking to get the scenic tour, Chloe.”
Chloe’s laugh floats away with their conversation as they move further into the apartment.
Inside, Chloe smacks Amy’s shoulder lightly. “Stop that. He’s been a good friend. I want it to stay that way.” Chloe continues searching for her favourite scarf. “Everybody’s going their separate ways, you know. And - and you and Beca have...well, each other.”
Amy snorts. “Beca might be my best friend, but-” The front door lock clicks. “Speaking of.”
Chloe lights up immediately. She drops the hamper of dirty clothes she was sifting through and nearly vault leaps over a pile of Amy’s clothes. “Beca! You’re home,” she sings. Beca is carefully putting eggs into the refrigerator when Chloe props her chin on Beca’s shoulder. “What did you get?”
Beca does an awkward half spin and side-step to get to her bag of groceries. “We were out of milk. Also,” she continues, pulling out a small jar. I know you mentioned that your throat was sore lately, so I got some honey, just, you know, so you…” she trails off when she sees Chloe’s expression. She’s jarred by how much it feels like looking in a mirror. Appreciation, affection - and more, God, so much more - just rolled into one, fleeting expression. “It’s...whatever,” she mutters.
Chloe hugs the bottle to her chest like the dork she is and plops on Beca’s bed - their bed, really, but definitely Beca's side - because she has one satanic roommate who fashioned a "bedroom" adjacent to the kitchen.
As she looks on, Chloe making herself comfortable as she always does on Beca’s side of the bed, she lets her last two words echo uselessly in her head and sinks into a memory for a moment.
The first time it happens is startling for Beca. She’s just about to doze off after a long day of work, figuring out how to get their landlord to fix their broken pipe, and simply making sure that Amy knew how to use subway system around New York City.
She reminds herself that her shiny new job is going to rock. It has to, because this apartment is fucking expensive and she's a girl with bills to pay.
She’s just about to succumb to sleep when there’s a clatter, followed by a loudly-whispered “shit!” from the kitchen. The sounds come from just a few feet away from their bed. She recognizes that voice and sits up.
“What the hell, Chlo?”
“Oh. Hey Bec,” Chloe responds, bright smile illuminated by the tiny glow of the fridge.
Beca scowls at the back of Chloe’s head when she turns back to the fridge. “Can I help you with something? Accelerate your process?”
Chloe pulls out the jug of milk that is definitely larger than her head. “No, I’m good. What are you doing up?” she asks obliviously. Obviously.
Beca flops back down on the bed. “I was just waiting for the sleep demons to claim me. God. Why are you up?”
“...It’s like 9 o’clock, Beca,” Chloe says, in a tone that implies she’s going to lecture Beca about the merits of staying up at ungodly hours. She drinks her glass of milk and pours herself another one. “I’m just so -” she sighs happily. “It’s New York, you know? I feel like I’ve always wanted to be here. I’m meant to be here. Maybe not working as an intern at a sketchy animal hospital, but you know. Here.” She climbs into their bed - the fact that it's their bed still shocks Beca - and sets her glass down on the bedside table.
“Oh, ok, you’re just gonna - yep. Geez, Chlo," she complains half-heartedly when Chloe forcibly cuddles against her, taking up space near the center of the bed as opposed to her own side .
“I’m glad you’re here, Bec,” Chloe whispers, settling her head on Beca’s shoulder. "I'm glad we're here."
Beca doesn’t know what she can really say to that. She struggles with whether she should lean her head back against Chloe’s in return, so she kinda spasms into a half shrug that briefly dislodges Chloe.
But she settles back down anyway and they spend two and a half hours gossiping about their favourite celebrities (read: Chloe’s favourite celebrities).
As Beca’s about to finally - finally - fall asleep, Chloe slides an arm around her middle and presses her forehead against Beca’s shoulder. It makes Beca’s eyes pop wide open and her breathing stop momentarily. She doesn’t know if Chloe even realizes it, because Chloe’s suddenly mumbling, sleepily “It’s you and me, isn’t it? Aren’t you excited to be here? You’re going to kill it at your new job. I know it.”
It’s stilted and slow, but it sounds as sure as Chloe could ever sound. Chloe's confidence in Beca has always been frighteningly steady.
“I...I think I’m happier than I even understand, right now,” Beca says, staring up at the ceiling.
Chloe is asleep.
It isn’t “whatever” and it has never been "whatever" between them.
That’s what scares her the most.